by Jill Morrow
“Are you with me, Julia?” she called, partly to disguise her own exasperation.
Her daughter did not answer. Kat paused, listening for Julia’s footsteps. There weren’t any.
She swallowed back the fear that leapt to her throat. There wasn’t time for anything as trite as fear.
“Julia?” She turned to retrace her steps. Julia was nowhere in sight, but Kat thought she caught a glimpse of orange sweatshirt through the trees. A sigh of relief escaped as she picked up speed. There were no orange sweatshirts in medieval England. This could only be an import.
Julia leaned against a tree, eyes closed and smile wide. Her upturned palms were raised to her waist.
“Come on, kiddo.” Kat grabbed one of her hands. “We’ve got to move it.”
Julia snatched her hand away. The smile never left her face as she crossed both arms against her chest in a gleeful hug.
Kat took a step closer.
“Julia?”
No response.
Kat’s eyes narrowed. “Isobel?” she asked, hardly believing this new conclusion.
A sparkling cadence of giggles erupted from Julia’s mouth. Julia never giggled. Kat blanched, but continued.
“Isobel, what are you doing?”
“He loves me, I think.” It was Julia’s voice, but certainly not her words. “And, oh, I feel wonderful now! The perfume is so nice, and his music is just for me. I think he will make love to me soon, for why else would he strive to intoxicate me so?”
“Where are you?” Kat asked sharply.
“Where we always go, of course. There is a clearing in the woods where we hide away for all our lessons.”
Kat shifted into court mode, pulling herself up to her full height and summoning every ounce of authority she possessed.
“Isobel, I need Julia. Where is she?”
“Julia?” She sounded sad. “Must that girl always intrude? Yes, you’re right. She’s here, too. I was too happy to notice. She is in my way. Am I always to be tripping over her? Well, she can’t have my Hugh, my precious, darling Hugh.”
Kat raised a hand to her chest, hoping to calm the violent beating of her heart. “You are so right, Isobel. He is yours. Bring Julia to me.”
A pout crossed Julia’s features. “I want to, but Hugh might be angry if I part with his sweet Julia.”
Kat thought fast. “How fortunate, then, that women are wiser than men. You, Isobel, recognize the problem. Even if you hold Hugh’s heart, Julia will remain a temptation. Men are so weak. As much as Hugh loves you, he will want her, too.”
“Yes…” The voice trailed into the distance.
“Men have no control over their desires,” Kat continued. “I agree that you should keep him for yourself. He is rightfully yours. I’ll even help you. Bring Julia to me. I’ll take care of her.”
The girl’s face brightened. “You will? You can do that?”
“Of course.”
“Wait, then. I’ll get her. I’ll…”
Julia slumped to the ground. Kat broke her fall as best she could, then dropped to her knees beside her.
“Julia, wake up.”
Her daughter’s eyes fluttered open. “Mom? Mom! I know where they are! I think…I think I was there…oh, my God, I was there, wasn’t I? It happened again, it…”
Kat scrambled to her feet, dragging her daughter up with her. “Don’t crack on me, Julia. There isn’t time.”
The commanding tone of voice did its job. Julia blinked back her tears before they could fall. Kat shivered as the full impact of what had just happened hit her. She wiped a hand across her brow, brushing away the terrifying thoughts along with an errant lock of hair.
“Okay, Julia. Do you know how to get us to Isobel?”
Her daughter nodded. “I think so,” she said in a small voice.
“Let’s go, then. And let’s fill your brain with some heavy-duty light, all right? Don’t leave any room for this girl to wedge herself into your mind.”
Julia’s nod was starting to look automatic. Kat took in the blank expression on her daughter’s face and reached for her hand.
“Don’t let go of me,” Kat said. “Lead on.”
Numbly, Julia stumbled forward through the woods.
28
FRANCESCA COULD SEE THE WARRIOR SHE TRULY WAS, BRIGHT and burning as she strode through the forest underbrush. In her mind’s eye she glowed with the intensity of five hundred candles, fueled by a source that seemed both internal and external all at once. Her sword pulsed with energy, sending a vibrant charge of strength up her arm and through her body. It invigorated her, chased any lingering particles of doubt from her heart.
She sensed her colleagues; even with spiritual eyes she could not quite visualize them. They surrounded her as pulsating columns of brightness tinged with the most beautiful colors. She understood their language. Pink, violet, gold, blue, green—each color spoke of a love so much deeper than words could convey, each a facet of ultimate light. Francesca didn’t need to see these companions to know that she was at one with them.
How wonderful to be so filled with joy! She longed to immerse herself entirely in spirit, to become an integral part of these dancing patterns. She felt energized when among them, guided by undeniable directives of truth. There were no lingering questions about what should happen next. She knew deep in her soul that what her companions told her was true: she had nearly reached a destination. Another page of her journey was about to unfold.
Unfortunately, that meant she now needed to rejoin her physical surroundings. With deep reluctance, Francesca pulled her self back into the forest. The density of the air hit her like a slug to the stomach. She slumped against a tree, gasping for breath.
“Did I really have to leave you so soon?” she panted, reaching out a hand for the columns of light she no longer saw.
She sensed rather than heard the gentle, loving laughter. She had not lost them at all. They remained deep within her heart, ever at her call.
Her eyes rested on her hand. Solid and heavy, it no longer seemed connected to her. The joints creaked as she tried to close her fingers into a fist. Though her spirit had soared with joy and strength, her physical body felt more and more mired in mud. At home, she’d prided herself on her jogging and weightlifting regimen. Here she felt at least a hundred years old, anchored to a crumbling body that could surely not hold out much longer.
“I want to fly again,” she murmured.
You will, a now-familiar chorus reminded her.
“But I can’t do this.” She no longer needed to gulp for air, but her breathing felt labored and difficult, as if she had to try too hard for something that should have been instinctual.
You must do this.
Love rested about her like a warm, safe cloak. She pulled in a deep breath and straightened to her full height, standing tall in the waning sunlight. A soft kiss brushed her brow.
“You know, of course, that you’ll have to help me discern what to do next,” Francesca said.
A breeze ruffled her hair. She recognized it as the gentle laughter of her companions.
Just ask, they said.
But there was no need to ask. She heard the rustle of leaves from somewhere on her right. A branch snapped loudly, followed by the unmistakable sound of her niece swearing.
“Katerina!” she whispered, and the joy that raced through her almost made her forget her physical limitations. “Katerina!” she called out loud, not caring if anyone heard.
There was a pause, then a tremulous, “Aunt Frannie? Where are you?”
“Keep walking and talking so that I can hear if you’re getting closer.”
“Oh, my God, am I glad to hear your voice! Maybe now I can make some sense of this awful nightmare!”
“Keep walking,” Francesca said, brow furrowed. Stephen had said that Julia was coming. She certainly hadn’t expected Katerina. Then again, those crashes through the woods sounded louder than one tiny woman could make. Katerina wasn’t
alone.
Kat’s voice grew louder. “I knew I couldn’t possibly be expected to figure this out by myself. Honestly, Aunt Frannie, you know I can’t do any of this spiritual stuff.”
Francesca sighed. Katerina still needed a stronger faith. Each of them had a specific part to play in this battle. Ready or not, Katerina would have to fight.
Kat stumbled through the underbrush, arm wrapped tightly around Julia’s waist. A warm flush flooded Francesca’s face. Every muscle ached to hold Katerina in the same way, to gather her up and assure her that all would be well. The look on her niece’s face as their eyes met chased the urge away.
“My God,” Kat said simply. Her eyes grew even wider than usual, her cheeks pale.
“I look different,” Francesca said.
“Yes.”
“Tell me, Katerina. There are no mirrors here.”
Kat swallowed. “I don’t know that a mirror could pick it up anyway, Aunt Frannie. A mirror would show how snow white your hair has become, how…colorless…your skin is. But there’s something else. You’re…somehow fragile, somehow not quite of the physical world.”
They stared at each other, an unwanted realization growing tangible between them.
“Good, Katerina,” Francesca finally said. She fought to keep her voice steady. “You’re beginning to use the spiritual eyes I never thought you’d open.”
“Aunt Frannie.” Kat’s voice spiraled upward. “You’re never coming back with me, are you? You’re—”
Francesca held up a hand. “Don’t let panic in, Katerina. There’s no place for it in this moment. Neither you nor I know what lies ahead. This moment is quite enough to handle on its own.” She turned toward Julia, who stood silent beside her mother, face a blank.
“Where’s Julia?” Francesca asked sharply.
Kat snapped around, the danger of the immediate situation pulling her back from her fears. “Not again. I keep losing her. Julia!” She gently tapped her daughter’s cheek.
Julia smiled, but her eyes remained vacant, fixed on an image nowhere to be found in this part of the forest.
Kat’s grip tightened about her daughter’s shoulders. “Isobel,” she said, staring into the girl’s eyes. “Are you back with us?”
Francesca’s eyebrows rose, but she remained silent.
“Talk to me, Isobel,” Kat said. “You have a voice, now. Use it.”
Isobel giggled, the peals of laughter falling like flower petals all around them. “I do have a voice. And we are in accord; I should use it. I have been so long deprived of it.”
“Yes,” Kat said. “Where is Julia?”
“Here.” Isobel sounded vague.
“Here?”
“With me. With Hugh. But I have her tucked away. My time with Hugh is mine alone.”
Kat stepped backward and studied the girl before her. Francesca held her breath, waiting. Katerina, for all her apparent lack of faith, seemed to have established some sort of rapport with this girl.
“Isobel, have you talked to Hugh about Julia?”
The girl’s lower lip protruded. “I can’t talk to Hugh. Not yet.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know. I keep trying, but the words won’t come through my mouth. I still have no voice. Perhaps I have Julia in the wrong place.”
Francesca’s chin rose. This meant that Isobel and Julia had yet to completely merge. Isobel could speak through Julia, but had not yet the power to use the girl’s voice through her own body. There was still time, but not much. She could not fathom what might happen should the two become completely one.
Perhaps the same thought had occurred to Kat as well. She quickly wiped a troubled look from her face and continued her conversation in a measured, reasonable voice.
“I don’t think you should tell Hugh about Julia anyway,” she said. “You know his feelings toward her. We’ve spoken of this before, Isobel. The farther away from Hugh you keep Julia, the better off you will be.”
A new expression crossed the girl’s face, something that could only be described as a sneer. “I’m not sure I believe you anymore,” Isobel said.
Kat took an inadvertent step backward. “It worked last time, didn’t it?”
Isobel pulled Julia’s hand from Kat’s grip. This was not a good sign. It could only mean that she’d established control over Julia’s body as well as her voice.
“Here is what happened when last we spoke,” Isobel said. “You told me that you would take care of Julia, that you would keep her far away from my Hugh.”
“And I did,” Kat said.
“But he speaks of her still, urges me to keep her near. She must never be with my Hugh. She cannot. I have decided that only her voice will stay with me. Her body will stay with you. Her spirit and soul will go…I do not know, but neither do I care. My Hugh will work his magic for me alone, to provide me with the voice I should have.”
“Let me speak to Julia,” Kat said sharply.
Once again, gales of laughter echoed through the woods. This time they dripped down like acid rain.
Francesca stood solid as a statue. “Isobel,” she said.
The girl’s head turned toward her. A small gasp escaped her lips as her hands flew to shield her eyes. “It’s you!” she whimpered. “Put down your sword!”
“I want Julia,” Francesca said in measured tones. “I want her now.”
“I hate you,” Isobel snarled. “And you shall not win. I give her back now, but my Hugh shall prevail. And you will pay for your arrogance in ways you cannot imagine.”
Kat was already behind her daughter when the girl slumped forward. “This can’t go on,” she said, staggering slightly beneath Julia’s weight.
Francesca watched as Julia’s head rolled backward. Her eyes opened. They took a second to focus.
“Aunt Frannie!” she gasped, then pushed away from her mother to fling herself into Francesca’s arms. Francesca hugged her tight. “Maybe everything will be all right now!”
Francesca’s eyes met Kat’s over the top of the girl’s head. Apparently, Julia detected none of the changes in her great-aunt that Kat had sensed. Was Kat’s spiritual radar finally awakening?
“Julia, sweetheart.” Francesca held the girl close. “Take us to them.”
Julia nodded slowly. “I will,” she said. “I know exactly where they are.”
29
STEPHEN CAREFULLY SHIFTED POSITION IN HIS PEW, EYES GLUED to the muted light of the Lady Chapel’s stained-glass windows. Time had not passed this slowly since the Chemistry 101 class he’d endured in undergrad. He nestled Kat’s limp body more comfortably in the crook of his arm, then stole a surreptitious peek at his wristwatch. Had they really been sitting here for a mere fifteen minutes?
He glanced toward Claire. His younger daughter sat with her head tilted to one side, legs swinging idly beneath the hard wooden bench of the pew. At least she seemed on her best behavior. That was a switch. She usually didn’t make it much past the opening hymn of the mass before major squirming took over.
He brushed her cheek with his fingers. “Thank you for being so good, sweetie,” he whispered.
Claire turned round eyes toward him. “Did you just feel that, Daddy?”
He shook his head, puzzled. “Feel what?”
“That.”
Okay, so she was wonderful. She was smart, too. But he had to remember that she was still only eight years old and that these maddening conversations would occur no matter how dire the circumstances.
“Tell me,” he said, resigning himself to patience.
Claire’s head cocked in the other direction. “Um…it’s hard to explain. It just got…stronger…in here.”
Stronger. There wasn’t a chance in hell that he’d ever decipher that one.
“Okay, Claire, give me a second to think this one through.” He closed his eyes and tried to quiet the loud beating of his heart. What was he supposed to know?
An image flooded his mind. Kat, Julia, and Fra
ncesca appeared ever so briefly, but the intensity of the vision nearly threw him backward.
His eyes flew open. Stronger. No wonder.
“Did you feel it?” Claire asked.
“Yes. I think your mother and Julia have found Aunt Frannie.” He stared down at the top of Kat’s head. For all her doubts, she seemed on the right track.
Claire rested a fingertip against her lips, considering. “That could be,” she said. “All of them together would be a lot stronger than just one of them.”
Footsteps sounded in the corridor, the loud click-click of high heels accompanied by the muffled plod of sensible rubber soles.
“Uh-oh.” Claire instinctively swooped down to cover Julia’s body with her own. “What if those people come in here?”
Stephen felt the color drain from his face. “Let’s hope they don’t. Sit up straight, Claire. Pretend you’re praying.”
“I am praying.”
“Even better.” He closed his own eyes and tried to steady his breathing. What was it they’d learned in Lamaze class? Breathe. Focus. Concentrate. Those lessons had happened too many years ago to be helpful now. His mind had become overly cluttered since then, filled with day-to-day data that proved totally useless in this situation. He would no longer recognize serenity if it walked up and slapped him in the face.
The idea that serenity might turn violent made him choke back nervous laughter.
“Stop it, Daddy,” Claire hissed.
But he couldn’t stop. His shoulders shook as he covered his face with his available hand.
Claire scooted along the pew, reaching an arm across her mother’s slumped form to squeeze her father’s shoulders.
The footsteps stopped in front of the Lady Chapel entrance.
“Oh, my,” said an embarrassed voice.
“Calm down, Daddy,” Claire said, just a touch too loudly. “It will be okay. Let’s pray.”
Stephen heard muffled whispers behind him as the footsteps scuttled away.
He removed his hand from his eyes to meet his daughter’s accusing gaze.
“You’re good,” he said, admiration real.
“Snap out of it, Daddy.” Claire glowered as she returned to her place on the pew. “We have a lot to do.”
